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I learned today that March is National Kidney Month. The truth is that I don’t need a special month to focus on my kidneys. I am focused on my failed kidneys pretty much every day while I await word that there is a donor kidney available for me. The estimated wait time is five years, so I need to try to avoid so much focus on my kidneys and on all the daily dialysis hours that intrude on my days.

What I really need to focus on is myself, my soul that often shrinks into little depressive moments. Thomas Moore’s bestselling book, Care of the Soul, offers a revolutionary approach to thinking about daily life situations. Moore writes about a therapeutic lifestyle that focuses on looking more deeply into emotional problems and learning how to sense sacredness in ordinary things. Care of the Soul is thoughtful, eloquent and inspiring, filled with thoughts that can enhance the ways we care for the soul within us.

Caring for our souls demands that we view the everyday events of life through a religious and spiritual lens. The reality is that there is no problem, illness, or difficult life situation that doesn’t have the power to grab hold of the soul, squeezing the very life from it. Our spiritual and personal work is to recognize that, to caress our souls with tenderness, to open ourselves up to the gentle healing of God.

At times, all of us need to nourish and nurture our souls. At other times, we may even need to repair souls that are damaged by life’s slings and arrows. Yes, God does care about the health of my kidneys. But I have a strong feeling that God cares even more about the well being of my soul.

The Psalmist has words of wisdom for us:
“He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.”

Walking beside still waters, watching a gentle rain, listening to birdsong . . . whatever you find inspiring, let it restore your soul.

Poet Nick Frederickson wrote these words: “So, I close my heart to old ends and open my heart to new beginnings.”

Being on the waiting list for a kidney transplant is definitely a new beginning for me. It may well be a very long wait, five years they tell me. At my age, a kidney donor may be found too late for me, meaning that I will continue on daily dialysis throughout my life. So I have to struggle with my doctor’s words of reality that being on dialysis will shorten my life and offer less quality of life.

So this new beginning is fraught with unanswered questions and uncertainty. Unbecoming for a fresh new beginning! And yet, I still compare these days to the many days I spent hospitalized in 2014. Today is so much better. I can walk again. I ride my exercise bike. I draw and paint. I write. I gain inspiration for the tiny life blessings that come my way, and I feel grateful to be alive.

I have closed my heart to “old ends” and they don’t hurt me anymore. My heart is closed to feelings of failure about the end of my nonprofit organization, Safe Places. I am grateful that we had eleven very successful years and that we helped many people.

My heart is closed to the harsh betrayals of people I thought were my friends. I have moved on to some wonderful new friends.

My heart is closed to my inability to help victims of violence on a daily basis. I actually still hear from people who need my help and I am able to continue this ministry.

I have closed my heart to the time when I lost my ability to even write down my ABCs. Now I write an inspirational blog every day that has gotten thousands of views.

Literally hundreds of friends are praying for me. A few good friends and family members are coming forth as potential kidney donors. Who can ask for a better new beginning than that?
“Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” – Revelation 21:5 (ESV)

What enslaves you? What keeps you from experiencing the freedom that God wants you to enjoy? For some, the binding chains are financial problems. Others are bound by family issues, failing health, aging, addictions, a difficult career, depression . . . the list could go on and on.

I have my own set of chains that hold me captive. One of those chains is missing my grandchildren that live so far from me. I am bound by the depression that sometimes descends upon me when I think of not being able to spend time with them. It is a chain that feels like isolation and loneliness.

Another binding chain holds me in the prison of chronic illness. End stage kidney failure has me literally bound with dialysis tubing for eight hours each day. The enslavement, though, is much more than tubes. It is learning to live with a constant illness that can easily rob me of quality of life. It is waiting for a donor kidney that may never come. This is a chain that sometimes feels like helplessness and hopelessness.

My prayer goes like this: “Release me, O God, that I may find freedom. Break the chains of loneliness and hopelessness that hold me captive. Set me free through your amazing grace.”

That prayer is so much more than words. It is literally the only way to break the chains that hold me captive. And it is the grace of our great Liberator that bursts those chains. I imagine myself rising from my knees and, with tears of gratitude, singing with all my heart, “my chains are gone, I’ve been set free!”

The Psalmist expresses this in Psalm 107:10-14 (NASB):

There were those who dwelt in darkness and in the shadow of death,
Prisoners in misery and chains,
Because they had rebelled against the words of God
And spurned the counsel of the Most High.
Therefore He humbled their heart with labor;
They stumbled and there was none to help.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble;
He saved them out of their distresses.
He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death
And broke their bonds apart.

Please spend a few minutes listening to “Amazing Grace” with “My Chains Are Gone” by Brigham Young University female ensemble, Noteworthy, at this link: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=X6Mtpk4jeVA

The hope of Jesus is downright scandalous. First of all, that scandalous hope is available to every person that seeks it. Secondly, it is, as President Obama wrote, completely audacious because it is so much more than an optimistic belief that all will be well. It is, rather, doggedly believing that even if all does not end well, we will endure and refuse to be destroyed.

In his book The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus, Peter Gomes writes this:

Hope is not merely the optimistic view that somehow everything will turn out all right in the end if everyone just does as we do. Hope is the more rugged, the more muscular view that even if things don’t turn out all right and aren’t all right, we endure through and beyond the times that disappoint or threaten to destroy us.

The hymn says “my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.” And it is so true that genuine Gospel hope sets us squarely on a solid rock, now and forevermore. My dependence upon good luck and granted wishes is not what hope is about. My hope is a living, breathing promise right out of a scandalous Gospel that claims unbridled faith in Jesus the Christ.

Please take a few moments to listen to a choral rendition of “The Solid Rock” at this link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bWjb_6MzwY&sns=em

 

How would things change for us if we spent time caring for our souls? Everhard Arnold wrote these words:

The miracle of God comes not only from above; it also comes through us; it is also dwelling in us. It has been given to every person, and it lies in every soul as something divine, and it waits. Calling, it waits for the hour when the soul shall open itself, having found its God and its home. When this is so, the soul will not keep its wealth to itself, but will let it flow out into the world.

How wonderful to contemplate that the miracle of God “lies in every soul.” How amazing it is to come to that hour when our soul opens itself fully to God!

It should give us pause if we fail to spend soulful moments nurturing that miracle within us. Instead may each of us spend time caring for our souls and searching for the divine that lives inside of us. What a joy that would be!

Most of us need inspiration to endure the mundane parts of life. We need to see things not only as they are in physical form, but also to see things as holy and sacred. We need to see things as a part of God’s creation given to us to fill our lives with beauty. In some ways, a tree is not just a tree, it is a little piece of nature’s grace.

When I was a young child, my life was filled with the fear of family violence. My home was not a safe place for me. So I would seek refuge under a huge magnolia tree in our yard. I honestly believed that the tree sheltered me and kept me hidden from danger. So I grew up with a strong affinity for trees. I have always had a kind of relationship with trees, and under their sheltering canopy, I found protection from harm.

Yes, it was a childhood fantasy. When I grew up, I learned that a tree cannot really protect me. But I did carry with me some emotions about trees from my childhood, and I consider trees to be my personal sacred spaces. It works for me in all sorts of ways. Actual living trees, of course, are the strongest comforters. But I look at photographs of trees. I enjoy art that pictures trees. And I love drawing and painting them.

Perhaps it seems like a quirky thing. But for me it’s more like an inspiration, nature’s grace for my difficult days

Small prints available. 8 X 10 inch signed prints on linen paper. Two prints currently available. Each print is $12 with free shipping. Order at kathymfindley@gmail.com.

“THE GENTLE FOREST”    $12

 

 

“A GLIMPSE OF SPRING”    $12

 

 

In this life, with all that threatens us, we need healing, forgiveness, hope, light. We need the holy. We need the Spirit of God. I share with you today a moving prayer by Bishop Steven Charleston.

Let the healing come, to every heart, to every mind and body, to every life that needs it.

Let the forgiveness come, the release from what is past, the freedom of what is new.

Let the hope come, to every person, to every family, that longs for an answer.

Let the light come, to every fearful corner, to every place of worry, to all the spaces that separate our souls.

Let the holy come, the simple pure love that heals and forgives, restores hope and enlightens our path.

Let the Spirit come, to do what we cannot do, to make whole all that is broken.

A longing heart searches for God. A longing heart yearns for communion with God. It is during difficult times when that is most important, during those times when we find ourselves disconsolate. I have had some of those times in my life, times when I languished in suffering. I spent a full year under the ravages of end stage kidney failure and the serious infections that accompanied it.

I temporarily lost my ability to write, to feed myself, even to recognize friends and loved ones. Those were my times of longing for God. Those were times of looking beyond this earth to truly experience Gods love, care and grace. I can report, without hesitation, that God was fully present during those hard days.

I spent fifty-eight lonely days in the hospital, much of the time hoping for visitors to show up to comfort me. I was not alone, but I was lonely. I became truly grateful for the nurses and the other professionals that cared for me. I was glad to see the people who cleaned my room and brought my meals. I remember the nurses who made sure I had sugar-free midnight snacks.

But it was God that gave me the comfort I so longed for. As a person of faith, I should not be surprised at that. But after a series of losses, even persons of faith search high and low for God’s presence. I had a longing heart.

That was a bad year, but a year filled with grace from a loving and faithful God. God’s love that reaches to the heavens reached out to me. God’s faithfulness that reaches to the skies reached out to me when I needed it the most.

“Awake, my soul! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn. I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations; I will sing of you among the peoples. For great is your love, reaching to the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies.”(Psalm 57:8-10).

What color is silence? I contemplated that thought as I searched for an image for today’s blog post. Some say “silence is golden,” but I chose a purple image because, in its stillness, it spoke to me of silence. There is nothing going on in the image. It’s just still and luminous, making no noise at all . . . silent.

Gunilla Norris writes these words about silence:

In our present culture silence is something like an endangered species . . . We need it badly. Silence brings us back to basics, to our senses, to our selves. It locates us. Without that return we can go so far away from our true natures that we end up, quite literally, beside ourselves. We live blindly and act thoughtlessly. We endanger the delicate balance which sustains our lives, our communities and our planet. Can we remember our power as persons? Can we remind ourselves and others that, nurtured in silence, our awareness can lead us back to integrity and meaning? Each of us has and is a holy capability.

I have trouble with silence, often filling it with music. The truth is that I can hear God better in complete silence interrupted only by the sounds of nature. God may speak to me through the sound of a gentle breeze, the chirping of a finch, the music of a gentle rain, the crash of waves upon the shore. God may speak to me best of all when I am hearing nothing, during those times when God’s words reach directly into the depths of my soul.

It changes me. It restores me. It even makes me long for more silence. Gunilla Morris also says that each one of us “has and is a holy capability.” I embrace the holy capability within me in times of silence.

Where does one find hope? It is not just a superficial emotion that can be summoned on demand. Hope does not necessarily come to us when we urgently call for it. Hope is more like a state of being that dwells in the depths of the spirit. When all is lost in your life, you cannot find hope in activities. If you have lost a loved one, you cannot find hope in “getting beyond” your grief. If you have lost your health, you can not find hope in remedies, medical procedures and medications.

“Hope is found in the depths,” Paul Tillich teaches. These are his words of counsel:

If you find hope in the ground of history, you are united with the great prophets who were able to look into the depth of their times, who tried to escape it because they could not stand the horror of their visions, and who yet had the strength to look to an even deeper level and there to discover hope.

We sometimes find ourselves at the “depth of our times.” We sometimes try to escape the horror of what is happening to us. From those low and dark places, it takes strength to look into a deeper level. But that is where we must look if we want to discover hope, the kind of hope that is a healing balm for every life circumstance. We may find comfort, solace, consolation in many places, but hope is found only in the depths.

The shoreline opens itself up for the gentle waves at eventide. It’s a tranquil scene that refreshes the soul in ways I can hardly understand. I like to go to the seashore, in my mind at least, just to see and smell and hear the surf as it comes and goes. It brightens my spirit and refreshes me when I most need it.

I spent two weeks on the Kenyan shore many years ago and learned to love the Indian Ocean. Monkeys played in our front yard, frolicked in the trees, and added to the delight of the scenery.

I love to watch the African sun light the ocean in magical ways, as only the African sun can do. There is nothing like it anywhere else I have visited. I will always have fond memories of our time in Africa.

Memories are wonderful for the soul. They can transport us back to places we loved and remind us of people we cherished. L.M. Montgomery wrote that “Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.”

That is so true. And so I hold tightly to my good memories and vow that each day I live, I will make new ones.

 

The world is meant to be celebrated. Not that one would get that message during this political season when many of the candidates vehemently insist the the country is going to hell in a hand basket unless we elect them. They believe they can swoop in and save the day. They believe that our situation in this country is abysmal.

But there is another story circulating in America, and I like it much better. 106-year-old Virginia McLaurin got to fulfill her dream of visiting the White House and meeting President Obama and the First Lady. And they danced! A visit filled with joy and dreams come true! An opportunity to be celebrated!

Virginia McLaurin beamed as she spoke, “I thought I would never live to get in the White House. And I tell you, I am so happy. A black president! A black wife! And I’m here to celebrate black history. Yeah, that’s what I’m here for.”

So I’m for healing the world through joy, as Terry Tempest Williams writes:

Once upon a time,
When women were birds,
There was the simple understanding
That to sing at dawn
And to sing at dusk
Was to heal the world through joy.
The birds still remember what we have forgotten,
That the world is meant to be celebrated.

 

Lent can be a journey taken in the darkness. Yet, there is a sense about Lent that is so beautiful, so full of gentle light and new life possibilities. In some ways, Lent can be a new start for us, a chance to start all over with more wisdom and resolve. There is newness of life in Lent when we spend these forty days mindfully. There are new beginnings in Lent if we take the Lenten journey with hope and courage. Although Lent can be a time of darkness, a time of trying to open our eyes yet not being able to see our way ahead, it is a worthwhile journey. Each step on this journey can be one of taking a careful step at a time into a darkened place, yet knowing that the light will pierce the darkness.

In that kind of darkness, it does take courage to change things about our lives. It takes a desire to become all we can be and to move toward new beginnings resolutely. Giving up something for Lent is the popular thing to do. But it’s more life-changing to embrace something during Lent, to find ways to become more fully alive. Joan Chittister expresses a wonderful way to take the Lenten Journey.

Lent is a call to weep for what we could have been and are not. Lent is the grace to grieve for what we should have done and did not. Lent is the opportunity to change what we ought to change but have not. Lent is about becoming, doing and changing whatever it is that is blocking the fullness of life in us right now. Lent is a summons to live life anew.

Chains bind us and hold us captive. We can be chained by a variety of life circumstances: illness, aging, financial difficulties, addictions, family violence and abuse. We can be chained by our own perfectionism and self-destructive habits. We can be chained by our family members, our spouses. We can even be chained by our religion, which can be toxic rather than life-giving.

What we long for is the freedom to be who we are, to break the chains that hold us captive. Galatians 5:1 says it eloquently:

Stand fast therefore in the liberty with which Christ has made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.

It is for us to determine what is causing our “yoke of bondage.” And then we must claim the liberty that is ours because Christ has made us free. What Gospel good news it is that we have the power to break the chains that bind us and that God wants us to do just that!

It might take some fortitude. It might take patience. It might require courage. Most definitely, it will require our honesty — a candid, realistic self-assessment of ourselves and the circumstances that surround us. God grants us the power to break those chains and to release the bondage that constrains us. Wait no longer! Proclaim that you are free from your bondage, that you have broken the chains that bound you! It’s important.
The song “Free” sung by Faith Hill is inspiring. I invite you to listen to it at this link:

Here are some of the lyrics:

Life pulls fast changes
Winds blows past pages
All I see is I don’t need this
High-strung tight rope walk
Ticking time bomb clock
Scratch my name
Cut these chains

I’m free
Kicking out of that prison
I am free
Singing those words of wisdom
Let it be
Nobody gonna put the blues inside of me

Because of an annoying habit of sleeping late, I always miss the sunrise. It’s a shame, really, not to get to see the yellows and pinks of a brand new day. It is the time of day that holds great promise, a new beginning, a fresh start, a time to begin new projects and tasks, maybe even a time to dream a new dream.

Seeing the sunrise is a reminder that, whatever the problems of the night, the sun always rises and gives new light to our lives.

Bernard Williams wrote these words: “There was never a night or a problem that could defeat sunrise or hope.”

Perhaps sunrise is a gift that brings us hope every day. And hope is the one thing that we desperately need. It gives us the strength to move forward and to anticipate a day brighter and better than we have ever experienced. The sunrise reminds us.

May your new day be filled with new hope as bright as the sunrise, new chances to start anew, new dreams to fulfill the longing of your heart.

 

I saw this statement on my Facebook page this morning. “I think of you as the woman who saves children. Thank you.” What a humbling statement that was for me! What an honor to be thought of in that way!

The truth is, though, that I have felt like a dismal failure at saving children. I have never forgotten the words said to me by a young victim of child abuse, “Why should I tell you anything? You can’t protect me. My father will find out I told and that will just make it worse.”

And tragically, his words were true. No matter what we tried to do, we couldn’t protect him from his abusive father. The abuse continued for many years and had a devastating impact on this child. The harm continues even now that the child is eighteen and far away from his father.

Children are harmed every day in this country that should offer protection for its children. Consider these statistics:

– In 2014, 15.5 million or approximately 21 percent of children in the U.S. lived in poverty. (feedingamerica.org)

– 15.3 million children lived in food-insecure households in 2014.(feedingamerica.org)

– Every year more than 3 million reports of child abuse are made in the United States involving more than 6 million children. (Childhelp USA)

– Children Die Every Day From Abuse or Neglect. In 2005, an estimated 1,460 children died as a result of abuse or neglect (USDHHS, 2007). Almost 76.6 percent of these children were 3 years of age or younger. Most child fatalities (76.6 percent) happened at the hands of parents (USDHHS, 2007).

– The United States has one of the worst records among industrialized nations – losing on average between four and seven children every day to child abuse and neglect. (Childhelp USA)

– A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds. (Childhelp USA)

– More than 70% of the children who died as a result of child abuse or neglect were two years of age or younger. More than 80% were not yet old enough for kindergarten. (Childhelp USA)

– 80% of child maltreatment fatalities involve at least one parent as perpetrator. (Childhelp USA)

– 555 children under 12 have been killed by firearms in the three years since the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, on Dec. 14, 201

There are so many more statistics that should shame us. there is so much that God wants us to do to protect the children. Yet, often we turn a blind eye to the tragedies around us. I cannot help but recall this Scripture:

And whoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the depths of the sea. (Mark 9:42)

May we all be convicted of our failure to protect our children. May we search deep within and call out our better selves to save our children, all of God’s children.

There are few sights as beautiful as a sunset on a river. The light is dim, inviting a time of deep relaxation and contemplation. The sunlight is bright, but understated, almost as if it whispers to the soul. Breezes are gentle and the cicadas sing their lyrical songs. Some have called them the crying cicadas of sunset.

The image above of the Maumelle River in Arkansas calls out to me, “Peace can be found in this place.” And I am reminded that places of peace in my life are rare. Although peace is something my spirit longs for, I am trapped in mundane days and meaningless scenes.

I escape with photography and art. When I cannot physically sit on the banks of a flowing river, the photographs take me there. Even when I cannot physically go to a place where cicadas sing, believe it or not, I can listen to them on YouTube! I readily admit that this is a rather pitiful facsimile of nature’s captivating beauty. But, still, my appreciation of art and landscape photography feeds my soul. I am grateful for the artists that bring the world to life with their images.

Although many of us are imprisoned by our lives and separated from sunsets and rivers, God finds ways to caress our souls and fill us with grace. For me, art is the medium, my pathway to relaxation and contemplation. I can look at this photograph of the sunset on the river for hours, and I can find in the image the peace I so need. Even the stillness of the image moves my spirit beyond my circumstance. It’s called Contemplative Visual Practice, and it includes the following steps:

*Bring your attention to the present.
*Take several deep breaths and release them slowly.
*Release the to-do-lists yet to do…you can always pick them back up later if you wish.
*Gaze over the photo…take it all in…just as it is.
*Pause for several moments.
*Notice if a particular area of part of the image keeps drawing your eye.
*Notice if it is the entire image which is resonating with you.
*Savor what you are noticing.
*Let your imagination free to ponder the possibilities of what the Spirit is saying to you.

(https://theedgeishere.wordpress.com/2016/02/17/lent-2016-holy-conversations/)

I thank God that I am able to escape through images, especially when sunlit rivers are so far away.

I had an artistic experience yesterday that presented a small lesson. I decided I wanted to try my hand at a watercolor painting. Now, you must understand that I have no idea how to use watercolors. On top of that, I have barely a thimble full of artistic talent in me. But, still I tried.

I started with a wonderful piece of art to look at. It was painted by Richard Stevens, a brilliant artist from Hot Springs, Arkansas. I had no plan to copy his art, just to use it as a guide, thinking that if I studied his light and dark areas, I would be on my way to a personal masterpiece of some kind.

What I learned anew about watercolors is that you cannot control them. They flow where they want to flow and bleed where they choose to bleed. So in an instant, my painting took on a life of its own!

Reminds me of life in a way. We can lay it out like we want to, choose the “colors” we love, plan the central plot, but try as we might, we cannot control the outcome. Life flows like a watercolor painting, and the finished product is always a serendipity. We simply have no control.

By the way, I actually kind of liked my little painting, although it looked nothing like the work of Richard Stevens. And I discovered that having control isn’t the best plan anyway.

As far as life goes, it really is best to leave it in the hands of the master artist, a God who is full of grace toward us. So, thank you, God, for my complete lack of control. Thank you for painting my life with your colors, not mine. Thank you for even a thimble full of artistic ability. Thank you for the gift of creativity. Thank you for your unending grace.